


The Double Saving

by larosesombre, Scarlett_Lucian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hero Complex, M/M, Oblivious Hermione Granger, Protective Harry, Rescue, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Snow, Supportive Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25517884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larosesombre/pseuds/larosesombre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lucian/pseuds/Scarlett_Lucian
Summary: Harry Potter has a penchant for heroics, and a serious crush on Draco Malfoy.Draco Malfoy has a habit of finding himself in need of a hero. And who better to play the part than his crush and famous saviour, Harry Potter?Ron has a massive headache and wishes they would both just hurry up and confess their love for one another.But when Draco manufactures a situation for Harry to rescue him from, Ron may be forced to take on the role of hero on Harry’s behalf . . .
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 19
Kudos: 174





	The Double Saving

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was created with [larosesombre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larosesombre/works) writing Harry's point of view, as well as Ron's, and [Scarlett_Lucian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lucian/works) writing Draco's.  
> If you enjoy this fic, we recommend you check out our [Drarry Rewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806001) series!  
> We hope you enjoy!

It was one of those rare days when Harry woke up and could almost smell snow in the air. Rolling out of bed with far more vigour than usual, he threw himself at the window and looked outside, drinking in the sight of the Hogwarts’ grounds covered in a layer of crisp white. Piling on layers and dragging Ron out from under his warm covers, Harry set off to breakfast with great expectations for the day ahead. 

Breakfast took far less time than usual. Students at every table were rushing through their meals, anxious to get outside. The oldest seemed just as excited as the first years, ready to be out in the sparkling snow, to throw snowballs, leave footprints, and to come back home at the end of the day red-nosed and soaking. Hermione usually read through breakfast, but today she was focused on her meal, just as anxious as Harry and Ron to get outside.

When breakfast was finally done, the three of them set off, vying with crowds of classmates to be the first out the door. To make the first steps into the snow, and to mark it as their own. Harry managed to duck under a taller Gryffindor, sidestep a group of Ravenclaws, and tumbled out the door before anyone else. The feeling of his boots sinking into the snow was just as satisfying as he had imagined it would be. With shouts and whoops of childish joy, he and his friends set off, throwing snowballs, slipping on icy patches, and not minding the cold.

After an hour of this, the three of them sank down breathlessly in the snow, letting the cold and damp seep up through their cloaks. 

“Did you see Dean?” Ron asked, once he recovered his breath enough to get the words out. “I got him in the side of the head with a snowball earlier, and he couldn’t see straight to get me back.”

Harry was about to respond, when Ron let out a shriek and jumped back up, shaking his cloak violently to free the chunk of snow Hermione had just tipped down the back of it. “He didn’t need to get you back.” She laughed. “I did it for him!”

The two of them took off again, kicking up clouds of white as Ron tried to avenge himself. Harry, still exhausted, sat back and watched. It didn’t seem as if Ron was going to have any luck. Harry watched just long enough to see Hermione land a solid hit with a snowball, before his attention drifted elsewhere. There was a crowd of Slytherins building a snowman nearby, and Harry found that more interesting than watching Ron lose a snowball fight.

Slytherins seemed to have a different approach to building snowmen than Gryffindors. Harry had built snowmen with his friends before, and it was a lot of yelling and laughing, falling over, dropping bits, and eventually ending up with a slightly lopsided, but impressively large construction. Slytherins on the other hand, seemed to hand out roles and to take it far too seriously. Harry could see Crabbe and Goyle rolling a base, while Pansy Parkinson made them stop periodically so that she could measure it. Draco was standing nearby, and though Harry couldn’t make out what he was saying, it was obvious that he was directing the others. 

Harry leaned back against his snow bank with a slight smile on his face. There was something oddly adorable about watching Draco Malfoy so intently focused on a task like building a snowman. Harry forgot about Ron and Hermione, who were presumably still battling somewhere behind him, and watched the entire construction. Once the perfectly proportioned snowman was complete, Draco took off his own scarf and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck.

The group of them moved away after that, leaving their snowman standing alone. Harry, unable to help himself, got to his feet and made his way over. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a need to see it up close. Ron and Hermione rejoined him at that point, and walked with him, Ron loudly complaining that Hermione had broken his nose. Harry glanced at him quickly, and once he had ascertained that Ron was fine, continued to ignore him. 

“Why are we looking at a Slytherin snowman?” Ron asked, poking at the scarf.

“Leave it alone.” Harry responded. The snowman was even more impressive up close. Maybe the Slytherins had the right idea with their approach. 

“What?” Ron asked. “Harry, did something happen while we were gone? What about this snowman do you find so interesting?”

“Technique.” Harry said quickly, turning away from it. “I was wondering if we could learn something from it.”

“From the Slytherins? Unlikely.” Ron snorted, turning to follow Harry. He nearly collided with him, because Harry had not moved far from the snowman. He was frozen in his tracks, watching an approaching figure. 

Draco had come to retrieve his scarf. Harry wanted to turn and run, as if the simple act of being interested in something Draco had created could reveal that he had an interest in him beyond their rivalry. However, it was too late to flee now, Draco had clearly spotted them. 

“Come to kick it over, Potter?” Draco sneered, as he drew closer. 

Harry watched as Draco took another step. There was a patch of ice between them, and Draco stepped onto it. Harry saw Draco’s feet go out from under him and he began to move towards him as he fell. Propelled by instinct more than logic.

  
  


***

Draco fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut as he fell, instead reaching his hands out, hoping to catch himself. He braced for impact with the hard, frozen surface, already wincing at the pain to come, when suddenly he stopped moving, his fall abruptly broken. 

Shocked, Draco glanced up to see Harry Potter staring at him, their noses barely two inches apart as the Gryffindor wrapped his arms more firmly around Draco’s middle, holding him above the ice. Automatically, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, barely breathing as he stared up into his green eyes. His glasses were smudged with melted snowflakes, but even with the obstruction, his beautiful eyes shone through. 

Draco’s heart was pounding furiously, although whether it was from the adrenaline brought on by his near fall or Harry’s achingly close proximity, he didn’t like to venture a guess. 

The mere thought brought a flush to his cheeks and he finally tore his gaze away from Harry’s. The motion seemed to bring Harry back to reality too and he carefully set Draco on his feet. 

“Well, there you go,” Harry said softly.

Draco allowed himself to cling to Harry’s shoulders one moment longer than necessary, before forcing himself to pull away before he did something even more embarrassing. 

“C-couldn’t control your hero’s complex, could you Potter?” He said, faltering as he took in Harry’s adorably disastrous hair and his cold-reddened fingertips. His own fingers twitched with the urge to grab Harry’s hands and warm them between his own. Gorgeous idiot should have worn gloves. 

“Just didn’t want you to break the snowman,” Harry shot back. “It’d be a shame for you to do it before I got a chance to.”

“But Harry--” Weasley broke in, confusion twisting over his freckled features. “Weren’t you just saying that--?”

“Ron!” Harry shot a glare at his friend. 

“What?”

Draco watched the two Gryffindors make perplexing faces at each other, obviously trying to communicate something without words. 

“Nothing!” Harry finally said, turning to the snowman, hesitating a moment before kicking it over, the compact snowballs breaking into lopsided pieces around Draco’s scarf. 

Harry glared at Draco one last time, before stalking off towards the castle, Granger and Weasley following behind him.

“What did you say, Ron?”

“Merlin, Hermione! I don’t know!” 

Draco watched them go until Harry’s dark head disappeared inside Hogwarts. Sighing, he bent down to pick up his scarf, brushing the snow off of it before wrapping it around his neck. 

Salazar help him.

***

After the incident in the snow, Harry had been avoiding the subject of Draco Malfoy at all costs. It was becoming impossible to ignore the fact that he had a crush, and the last thing he needed was for Ron or Hermione to comment on the incident. As much as Harry relished the idea of being Draco’s Knight in Shining Armor, it was not a reputation that he currently wanted to have.

Harry had avoided the topic with some success, until another unfortunate incident occurred. This time, Harry had been trying to enjoy his breakfast, thinking about how well he had done avoiding Draco, and simultaneously indulging the hope that their eyes would meet across the Great Hall. From further down the Gryffindor table, he suddenly heard a suspiciously loud conversation. 

“I’ve never seen a more pathetic excuse for a Slytherin in my life.” An upper year Gryffindor said, loud enough for Harry, and probably the entire Hall to hear.

“I thought Slytherins valued leadership and cunning, not nepotism and whining. Imagine running home with every little complaint. It’s a miracle he’s survived this many years of school with that approach.” Someone else chimed in. 

They must mean Draco. Harry was so tense, he had to remind himself to suck in a breath. Turning around he tried to see if he could spot Draco at the Slytherin table. There was no way he hadn’t heard this. The entire Hall had gone quiet to listen, the other Slytherin’s spinning in their seats to glare at the Gryffindor table. Only Draco hadn’t moved, the back of his head standing out against a sea of angry faces.

“He’s such a baby, it’s a wonder they let him into Hogwarts in the first place. I’m surprised the sorting hat didn’t just reject him from all houses. What a disgrace. I didn’t know the sorting hat accepted bribes, but it must have done because the only thing he’s got going for him is his daddy’s money.” The first person said, their voice rising so that even the professors must have heard it at the head table.

“I always knew Slytherins were bloody cowards, but I thought they had a little more self respect than to be as much of a snivelling coward as he is. I suppose that comes with being a _Malfoy_.” This last word was spat out, as if the taste of it was repulsive.

Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. Through the whole speech, he had been finding it increasingly difficult to breath, watching Draco intently as the other boy's shoulders seemed to cave in a little with each word. By the time this last person had stopped speaking, Draco looked tiny, hunched over his plate. Before the insults could start up again, Harry rose to his feet, propelled by a surge of protective fury that grasped at his heart like a vice. Scanning the table he spotted the speakers, identifying them as several upper years that he didn’t know very well.

Before he could stop himself, Harry found himself standing over them, his fists clenched so hard that the nails were biting into the soft flesh of his hand. Matching their volume, his voice shaking with anger, he managed to choke out: “Shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

***

Draco spun around, shocked to hear Harry’s voice echoing across the Great Hall; not to join the others in their taunts, but in defense of him! 

“You have no right to say such horrible things about a person when you don’t really know them at all,” Harry continued, eyes blazing as he stepped closer to the Gryffindors, who were staring at him, mouths gaping with the same surprise that was coursing through Draco. 

Draco gripped the table hard, head spinning as Harry began to practically yell. 

“And if you did know him, you would realize that Draco is so much more than just his family’s name. How would you like it if everyone made assumptions about you just because of your name? I know what that’s like. For years people have talked about me and spread rumours about me and decided that they didn’t need to meet me, because they already had me all figured out. Well, guess what? I’m not going to stand by and let you do the same thing to him that people have been doing to me for ages. And if I ever hear that you do again, I will find you and . . . and . . .” Harry searched around for something, before finally spitting out: “I’ll hex your ears off! Do you understand?”

The Gryffindors stared at Harry, barely blinking. Draco hardly knew if _he_ was blinking, so fixated was he on the determined expression etched across Harry’s face. Because of something Harry had said about him. 

“Do you understand?” Harry demanded again, after the Gryffindors formulated no response. 

They dipped their heads, not daring to meet his burning gaze, muttering something unintelligible from the Slytherin table. 

Draco watched as Harry stepped back from the chastened students and glanced across the Hall to meet Draco’s eyes. Draco swallowed, before nodding slightly. Harry dipped his head in response, then sat back down between his friends. 

“What the hell?” Pansy whispered.

***

After the incident in the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione had become nosier than ever. If Harry had been concerned about them piecing it together before, he was even more concerned now. Hermione had asked a couple of probing questions, but had let up when Harry promised her that the only reason he had defended Draco was because his Gryffindor sensibilities demanded it of him. Ron was unfortunately a little harder to convince.

“I still don’t understand why you did it.” Ron whispered over their cauldron in Potions the next day. “You’d think that hearing upper years mock Malfoy would be the highlight of your year, but you had to go running off to save him.”

“I didn’t.” Harry said, stirring their potion intensely so that Ron wouldn’t notice the flush creeping over his cheeks.

“You did. And this isn’t the first time. There was that day when you caught him in the snow.”

“I told you why.” Harry snapped, throwing a random ingredient into the cauldron without bothering to look at the instructions Snape had given them. 

“I don’t buy it.” Ron responded, fishing whatever Harry had just put in out with the tip of his wand. “Watch what you’re doing, Harry.”

Harry grumbled an apology, sneaking a glance over his shoulder at Draco. Draco was focused on his potion, stirring it while Crabbe and Goyle hunted the surrounding desks for something. 

“I think he’s missing an ingredient.” Harry said.

“What?”

“Draco. I think he’s missing an ingredient. Do we have extra?”

Ron let out an exasperated sigh. “Harry, you can’t pretend something isn’t going on. You’re not even trying to be subtle.”

Harry picked up the ingredient list for the first time during that class. “Foxglove. He’s missing foxglove. Do we have extra?”

“No. You put all of ours in because you were distracted thinking about his beautiful blue eyes.” Ron said, sounding utterly exhausted with Harry. 

“They’re grey, not blue.” Harry corrected absent-mindedly, prompting a strangled sound of frustration from Ron. “Does Hermione have extra?”

“Hermione does not have extra, because she measured the right amount to take out of the supply cupboard.” Hermione hissed back from where she and Neville were stirring their potion. She kept having to intervene when Neville tried to add incorrect ingredients. “Go get it yourself, since the two of you were too incompetent to measure the correct amount.”

“It’s not for us.” Ron retorted. “It’s for…”

“Shut up.” Harry growled. “Hermione, where am I supposed to get more?”

“You’ll have to ask Snape for it.”

Harry glanced up at the desk where Snape was sitting, watching them all intently as if hoping to catch them making a mistake. He glanced at Draco one last time. He was underneath a desk, having joined Crabbe and Goyle in searching the surrounding area for their missing ingredient. Bracing himself, Harry stood.

“You’re mad.” Ron whispered after him.

“I know.” Harry said, so quietly that it was barely audible to his own ears. 

The space between him and the desk closed rapidly. Snape turned to look at him, frowning down his nose at Harry. “What is it, Potter?”

“I- I need more foxglove, Professor.”

“Aha! You didn’t cut enough the first time?” Snape almost looked excited by this predicament. “Ten points from Gryffindor for failing to follow instructions!”

Harry was tempted to tell him that it wasn’t for himself, but he didn’t want to risk getting Draco into trouble. “Sorry.” He muttered. “May I cut more now?”

“I should think not!” Snape sneered. “How will you learn from your mistake if I let you cut it now?”

“Please, Professor?” Harry asked, suddenly wishing he hadn’t felt the need to be a hero over something so stupid. “I’d like to learn how to brew the potion properly.”

Snape paused for a moment, torn between enjoying Harry’s mistake and actually trying to teach him how to make the potion. Eventually he seemed to reach a compromise. “Another ten points for being unprepared. You may take the ingredient now, Potter.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” Harry retrieved the foxglove as quickly as possible, then made his way back to Ron, clutching it to his chest. He waited until Snape wasn’t watching him anymore, then darted over to Draco’s cauldron.

Draco was still on the ground searching for the missing foxglove and growing more and more frustrated by the sound of it. Harry could hear him growling at Crabbe and Goyle for their carelessness. Holding the slightly crushed purple flowers out, Harry tapped Draco on the shoulder. 

***

  
  
Draco started at the sudden touch on his shoulder, smashing his head against the underside of the table. 

“Bloody hell!” He hissed, cradling his head in his hands. “Goyle, you numbskull, what the fuck did you do that for? I could have died!”

“Oh, Merlin! Draco, I’m so sorry!” Said a fretful voice, muffled by the table top. 

Groaning, with a hand still pressed to his head, Draco backed out from under the table and looked up to see . . . Harry Potter? Standing beside Draco’s desk and looking down at him and biting his lip. 

Draco’s stomach dropped at Harry’s abrupt presence. The stone floor suddenly felt _very_ cold under his palms and his mouth felt _very_ dry as he searched for something to say. 

“Draco?” He finally managed, getting to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster, which, given that he _was_ a Malfoy, was a decent amount, especially considering the situation and the quickened pace of his heartbeat. 

“Sorry, _Malfoy,_ ” Harry corrected, blushing very becomingly, which only tightened the nervous knots tying themselves in Draco’s stomach. 

“I hope you are,” Draco sniffed, going back to his cauldron and staring into it hopelessly. “I always thought you’d think of a more creative way to off me than crack my skull open with a table. Sweet Salazar, Potter.”

“I really am sorry,” Harry said sincerely, stepping so close to Draco’s side that if he just leaned over to the left a bit their arms would be pressed together. 

Stomach turning guiltily at the thought, Draco busied himself with reading over the potion’s ingredients list one more time, hoping that this time somehow foxglove wouldn’t be on there. No such luck.

“Do you need something, Potter?” He snapped, noticing that Harry still hadn’t moved. “Because if you don’t mind, I’m rather busy with my potion. You might consider being concerned with your own. Merlin knows you need to more than me.” 

Harry looked at him. But instead of his gaze hardened as he shot back a withering retort, he simply held out a handful of foxglove. 

Draco stared at the plant, eyes flickering between it and Harry’s face, before he reached out and took it, allowing his fingers to briefly brush against Harry’s in a touch that sent tingles running down his arm. 

“I noticed you were missing yours’, so . . . ” Harry shrugged, his explanation trailing off. 

“Thank you,” Draco said softly, eyes closely fixated on Harry’s face. 

Harry nodded, before turning and heading back to his table, where Weasley was frantically stirring their own cauldron, which was smoking out orange rings. 

Draco carefully chopped up the foxglove, sprinkling it into his cauldron just in time, while his mind carefully sorted over what had just happened. What had been happening for the past couple weeks. Why did Harry keep paying attention to him? Something underlying _had_ to be tying it all together. 

***

“I’ve figured out why Potter keeps interacting with me!” Draco announced excitedly, looking around at his gathered friends. 

“Oh, Merlin, finally!” Pansy groaned, flinging herself back against the common room couch. “So, when’s the wedding? I’m your maid of honour, right?”

“What?” Draco stared at her, frowning in confusion. “No, Pansy, for once we’re not talking about my unrequited love for Potter, although that will come into it in a minute. We’re talking about his saviour complex! See, I’ve figured out that’s what’s been happening! Every time he comes over to me, it’s because he’s trying to save me from something! First it was the ice, and then the Great Hall, and earlier today in Potions, he gave me the foxglove that Goyle misplaced!”

“It was Crabbe,” Goyle said stubbornly.

“Was not!” Crabbe spat back, crossing his arms. 

Draco sent them a quelling glare. “It doesn’t matter. What DOES matter, is that it seems Potter feels completely responsible to save literally anyone, even his enemy and I can use this to my advantage.”

“Oh yes, that’s definitely it!” Pansy said loudly, rolling her eyes.

“If you’re not going to be pleasant, please leave,” Draco said sharply.

“Fine,” she said, slumping forward to rest her chin in her hands. “So how is ‘Potter’s saviour complex’ advantageous to you?”

“See, I’ve never been closer to Potter or had more civil interactions with him then when he thinks that I’m in danger and he has to save me from it, so, we’re going to set up a scene near Potter where it looks like I’m in danger, so he’ll come over and save me from it.” Draco sat back in his chair, immensely pleased with his Slytherin genius. 

“Sweet Salazar!” Pansy cried. “Draco, what madness is this?”

He frowned. “The kind that gives me an excuse to speak nicely to Potter without him looking at me like I’m crazy!”

“You are crazy!”

“Pansy!”

“Fine! So what’s the plan?”

Draco smiled, leaning forward in his seat. “Well . . . “

***

As Draco peered over the side of the staircase, he wondered if this had been such a good idea. Yes, Crabbe and Goyle were waiting right below him with a charmed mattress, so that if he did happen to fall, he would be perfectly fine, but it still felt rather wrong to be about to climb over the rail of a staircase to hang over a twenty foot drop. Hormones, Draco decided, were very dangerous things. 

He glanced back at the door to the Transfiguration classroom, which should open at any moment to let a stream of fifth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs out into the hallway, including Harry Potter. 

He and Crabbe and Goyle had skipped the end of Astronomy to set the scene up, faking stomach aches that had to be immediately taken to the hospital wing, so he fervently hoped that Professor Sinistra did not happen to walk past them. 

Although, if this somehow went terribly wrong, he might end up in the hospital wing anyway. 

Swallowing hard, he lowered himself over the railing as he heard the classroom door open. Clinging to the bars, arm muscles already burning with the exertion of holding his entire body weight, he peered up to watch for Harry to come out of the classroom, whereupon Draco would begin screaming for help in his most rescuable fashion. Harry would have to come dashing over and pull Draco up. The motion would throw him into Harry’s arms and the contact would send that delightfully painful jolt through his stomach that was just like . . . like . . .

Like what was churning through him right now? 

Draco fell out of his daydream only to realize that the staircase he was hanging off of had begun slowly moving, the wood screeching as it slid away from the balcony where Crabbe and Goyle stood with the emergency safety mattress and towards a dizzyingly empty space between the two entryways that the staircase connected to. He clung harder to the railings, but his hands felt slick with sweat and their grip began slipping off of the bars, inching him closer to the horrifyingly wide open space beneath him. 

“Help! Help!” Draco screamed. Where was Harry Potter when you actually needed him? 

He felt his grip loosening even further and he closed his eyes tightly, preparing to fall away into oblivion.

***

Harry had just spent the entirety of a very boring class watching Hermione scribbling notes with her quill so hard that he thought the tip might break. He hadn’t taken many notes himself, and was left with a sheet of paper that was mainly covered in tiny drawings of snakes. He crumpled it up and shoved it in his pocket as class ended.

Today's class had been particularly unpleasant. Harry usually had Ron to distract him from the mind numbing curriculum, but today, Ron had been forced to make up a test for McGonagall. An entirely unfair predicament as the original test had only been missed because Ron had been suffering from a migraine. Harry couldn't wait to get out the door so that he could find Ron. It was no use complaining to Hermione about classwork, she'd only give him a lecture on why he should appreciate assignments. Ron would sympathize.

As the students at the desks around him rose, Harry joined them, hastily gathering books from the desk and starting towards the door while Hermione called after him to wait up. He ignored her. If he waited for Hermione, he'd be there all day. 

Harry had half expected Ron to be waiting for him outside the door, but of course, it was too much to expect that he would have finished the test early. Hanging back by the door, Harry let the crowd of other students file past him, deciding he should wait for Hermione after all. He was about to poke his head back in the door to check on her when a commotion from further down the hall drew his attention. The group of students that had just departed from the classroom had reached the staircase and something happening further up the stairs was causing a great deal of distress. Throwing a guilty glance over his shoulder at the room where Hermione was no doubt engaging their professor in a horrible discussion on ancient runes, Harry started off towards the staircase.

As the stairs came into sight, Harry could hear shouts of shock and dismay from the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs around him. Stopping beside Neville he looked up the stairs to where the other boy was pointing. There was somebody clinging to the railing, far over their heads. Some unfortunate soul had lost their footing, and was swinging over open air, dangling above a horrible drop. It took Harry a moment to realize who it was, but when he spotted the head of pale blonde hair, he knew it couldn't be anyone else. Draco Malfoy was about to fall to his death.

A wave of panic coursed through Harry's veins, poisoning him, sending a sudden paralysis through his legs. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, and unable to help even if he could. Draco was out of reach. He was going to plummet to the ground to lie there shattered on the stones far below. He was going to die, and Harry couldn't do a thing about it.

By now, the commotion was beginning to draw a crowd. Harry pushed through to the front, shoving people aside to get as close as his shaking legs would permit him. There was no way he could get to Draco without a broom, no way he could conjure up a spell to save him when his whole body was rebelling against him. He doubted he could even remember his own name, let alone a complex spell to carry Draco safely to him. 

A list of things that he had been too stupid to tell Draco attacked Harry like Cornish pixies, pinching and poking at his soul with sharp jabs. Harry had never told him he was sorry for all the cruel things he’d said, though they had mainly been in retaliation. Harry had never told him that he liked him, though Draco hadn’t given him much of a chance. Harry had never told Draco that he would do anything for him. Though that couldn’t be true because here they were, and he was unable to save him. Draco would die, and Harry would be left with a list of unspoken truths. Things that he should have said before it was too late.

Harry had never been particularly religious, but he found himself praying. Whether it was to God, Merlin or the ghost of Salazar Slytherin, he wasn’t sure. Unable to move his eyes from Draco as he grasped desperately at the side of the staircase, Harry sent a silent promise to whoever might be listening. If Draco didn’t die, he’d tell him. He’d tell him everything. 

The crowd around Harry had been shouting, crying out at the sight. Suddenly they went very quiet, the atmosphere shifting. They seemed to be collectively holding their breath as a figure appeared above Draco, somebody carefully climbing over the side of the stairs to reach him. Harry held his breath with them, watching as his best friend joined Draco on the precipice, cautiously holding on to the outside of the railing at an angle that allowed them to help Draco.

If Ron fell too, then Harry would never be able to forgive himself. His lungs were burning in rebellion against him, demanding that he let in oxygen again. His legs were shaking so badly he thought he might collapse. Two of the most important people in his life were about to die. Their safety relied on Ron’s ability to hold them both up, and Harry felt this was a slim hope. 

Before dozens of watchful eyes, Ron caught hold of Draco’s arm. With a great strain, he pulled the other boy up to meet him, helping him to clamber back over the side of the bannister, where they both collapsed on the stone steps. As they reached safety, a huge, roaring, cheer went up below them. The crowd relaxed, and Harry did too. Legs still shaking, he managed to push himself into motion, and took off at a run up the stairs. He dropped to the ground beside them both and folded them into a hug. 

“Thank you, Ron.” He breathed, pulling away from them to ensure that Draco was unhurt.

“Well, someone had to save him.” Ron said, hiding his shaking hands behind his back. “You were out of range.”

Draco looked dazed. He let Harry look him over, clinging to his arm when Harry helped him to his feet. By now several professors had run over to join them, and McGonagall was busy fussing over Ron while Snape hovered next to Draco looking anxious and a little lost. Eventually he seemed to remember where he was, and curtly escorted Draco to the hospital wing, leaving Harry to trail behind at a distance.

***

Ron was feeling quite pleased with himself following the staircase incident. He had saved the love of Harry’s life, had racked up a considerable number of house points, and had earned a reputation for himself amongst the students who had witnessed the event. Perhaps even the professors. He may have been imagining it, but Snape seemed to be slightly less mean now. It had also earned him points with Hermione, which he was quite happy about. She hadn’t stopped fawning over him since the incident.

The only person who hadn’t come to Ron to express their admiration for his heroics was the person he had saved. Malfoy had been a little too out of it to fully realize that it was him at the time, otherwise Ron was sure he would have deliberately let go of the bannister just to take Ron with him. He wasn’t really expecting much thanks, which is why he was so surprised when one morning during breakfast, Malfoy tapped him on the shoulder.

Hurriedly swallowing his mouthful of toast, Ron glanced around the table for Harry. Maybe the near death experience had damaged Malfoy enough for him to mistake Ron’s ginger hair for Harry’s black hair. Harry was nowhere in sight. 

“Can I help you?” Ron asked.

“I wanted to say thank you.” Malfoy responded, sounding rather as though he didn’t want to.

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Ron looked around again, hoping that he’d missed Harry the first time.

“You saved me. I’m in your debt.” Malfoy said, not meeting Ron’s eyes. “May I ask you something?” 

“Sure?” Ron said, resigning himself to the fact that Malfoy must be there to talk to him after all. 

“Why did you do it?”

Ah. So that was it. Malfoy was as distressed by their interactions as Ron was himself. There was a simple answer to this question, but Ron didn’t feel that telling Malfoy that he had done it for Harry was quite fair to Harry, who wasn’t there to speak for himself. “I… because I’m a Gryffindor.” Ron managed.

“Oh.” Malfoy said, sounding rather crestfallen. Ron wondered if perhaps he should have said Harry after all, but he was saved from it when Harry himself took a seat beside him. 

“Good morning, Draco.” Harry said, smiling at him. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Malfoy responded, looking a little shocked by the greeting. 

“That’s good.” Harry said, still beaming at Malfoy. They stood staring at each other for a moment while Ron wished he could sink into the ground and escape. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell Malfoy why he had saved him. Harry wasn’t being particularly subtle. 

“How are you, Harry?” Ron asked loudly, hoping to break the silence. He didn’t think he had ever been this uncomfortable in his life. 

“Hmm? Oh, I’m fine, Ron.” Harry responded, finally turning to face him. “I gave myself a paper cut this morning, but other than that-”

“A paper cut?” Malfoy asked, sounding unduly anxious. “Let me see it.” 

“It’s just a small one.” Harry said quietly as Malfoy took his hand and began to examine it. “You don’t have to do that.”

Ron couldn’t contain himself any longer. Here was Draco Malfoy fussing over Harry Potter’s papercut, while Harry just let him do it. They were both idiots. “Well.” He said, setting down the piece of toast he had been clutching. “I can see I’m not needed here. I’ll leave you two to it.”

“What?” Malfoy asked, glancing down at him in confusion. 

“Harry, if you haven’t told him by first period, I’ll bloody well tell him myself.” Ron growled, pushing his chair back and stepping past the two of them. Malfoy was still clutching Harry’s hand, but they had both turned to face him, eyes wide in a mixture of alarm and surprise. “And I’d better not have to. I’ve already saved him for you once, I’m not doing this for you too.”

“Saved me for…?” Malfoy sputtered.

“Tell him?” Harry gasped.

“Get on with it.” Ron said, grabbing a very confused Hermione by the arm and pulling her after him. They exited the Great Hall, Hermione trying to piece it together as they went. As they left, Ron just caught the beginning of what Harry was saying:

“Draco, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. For… well, for a while now.”

As they moved out of earshot, Ron let out a contented sigh. Hopefully the pair of them would be less frustrating now that he’d forced them out into the open. Really, if you thought about it, one could say that he had saved them not once, but twice.

THE END.


End file.
